


This isn't the stone age, cupcake

by ElisAttack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Aromantic Stiles Stilinski, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Polyamory, Sexuality, This ain't a love story kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisAttack/pseuds/ElisAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hi, my name is Stiles, and I'm a demisexual with a distaste for relationships."  He says, shoving his hands awkwardly into his large red hoodie.</p><p>The room is deadly silent for a few moments before a chorus of "Hi, Stiles," rings out from around the circle.</p><p>Or the one where Lydia is a meddling friend, and Stiles has everything figured out, that is, until Derek gets a new girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This isn't the stone age, cupcake

**Author's Note:**

> Man, my gender studies (also known as heteronormativity is for losers) class makes me think up weird shit. 
> 
> Unbeta'd cuz I wrote this on the commute back from school, enjoy!

"Derek and I are just friends that sometimes suck each other's cocks."  Stiles shrugs.  He really doesn't understand why Lydia can't help bring up Stiles' personal life during lunch.

"So," She raises a perfect eyebrow, "The two of you are fuck buddies?"

Stiles cringes, "Jesus Lyds, you make it sound so crass."

"Stiles, you're the one that mentioned sucking and cocks in the same sentence."  Lydia sighs, exasperated.  "At least let me take you out, you can meet some new people."  She frowns her trademark Lydian pout.

"You know I don't do one night stands.  People are weird.  Don't you remember what happened to Isaac that one time?  We had to call the police on the girl, she was _utterly_ cuckoo for cocoa puffs."

"That was all on Isaac.  We all saw the crazy in her, but he kept staring at her tits."  Lydia narrows her eyes.  "And stop distracting me from the issue at hand, this is unhealthy, Stiles.  It needs to stop."  She says with an air of finality, flipping her hair in his face as she takes her empty plate and walks away.     

Well fuck.

Which is how Stiles ends up at an alcoholics anonymous group.  Well, not alcoholics anonymous, more like sex addicts anonymous.

Stiles is not a sex addict.  He's not.

He stands up.

"Hi, my name is Stiles, and I'm a demisexual with a distaste for relationships."  Stiles says, shoving his hands awkwardly into his large red hoodie.

The room is deadly silent for a few moments before a chorus of "Hi, Stiles," rings out from around the circle.

He smiles stiffly and sits back down.

Why does he allow Lydia to drag him to these sorts of things?

Matt Daehler, a fellow student in his Psych class stand up to declare his figging addiction, and goes on to explain it in great detail, leaving absolutely nothing out.  

Stiles is scarred for life.  Not only will he never touch ginger ale again, but Stiles will never be able to look Daehler in the face again for the rest of his undergrad life.

Stiles does not deserve to be here, he is not _that_ depraved.

He just likes casual, no-strings attached sex with people he cares about, and if that person happens to be his roommate of two years, well, that's his business.  Anyways, why does Lydia have to be so prissy about it?  Does Scott, his best friend in the whole wide world, care?  No siree.  Even though that might have to do with the fact that whenever Stiles even brings up the word 'sex' with Scott in the room, he takes off like a dog with his tail between his legs.  One couldn't even think to imagine Scott is regularly doing the vanilla nasty with his high school sweetheart.  His best friend the prude.

But he humours Lydia.

Which is why he's now at the Jungle.  Watching his friends shake what their mamas gave 'em.  From the bar.  Drinking a Shirley Temple.  He promised them he'd go out, but they never made him promise to do anything while he's out.

"Hey, there sugar."  A sultry voice purrs in his ear, sending his Shirley slopping all over his hand and the bar.  The barkeep glares daggers at him.

Nope.  Hell No.  He will not be picked up.  He has standards, okay?  And that includes avoiding STDs like the plague. 

He turns around to turn the guy down.   Objectively, the man's not unfortunate looking, in fact he could see Erica squealing over him, but Stiles doesn't think he's hot.  He's just a stranger with too many variables.  And he cares nothing for variables.  Stiles points to where Isaac is shaking his thang, pats the confused man gingerly on the back, and returns to his drink.  Revenge is beautiful.  The barkeep raises his eyebrow.  Stiles raises his right back.  Can't a guy enjoy his sugary bitch drink in peace?

"What's a straight guy doing in a gay club?"  The barkeep questions, sopping up the Shirley with a rag.

Eh, might as well become a stereotype and spill it all to the barkeep.  After all there's nothing better than getting drunk off his fucking mind.

"Give me a Brave Bull, good man." 

Thirty minutes later, his new bestie drags him over to his friends for life and deposits him, none to lovingly, into Lydia's tender, accepting arms, with a simple "He cannot handle his tequila."

"Bye bestie! See you next time."  Barkeep's nose wrinkles in irritation before he strides back to the bar.  But that's impossible.  They're friends.  He probably just smelled something funny.  

"Hey guys, guys, you wouldn't believe how much money I just spent on Brave Bulls!"

"I can imagine, Stiles."  Lydia says very loudly in his ear.

As Lydia shifts his weight in her arms, Stiles swings his arms up around her neck, leaning all his body weight into the hug.  "Omigod, Lydia!  I love you!  We should totally fuck!"  He can vaguely hear Jackson growling from behind him.  "Little Stiles is _very_ happy to see you."  Haha, see Stiles can be growly and sexy too!

"Little Stiles better keep his tiny self away from little Lydia."  Everyone turns to look at Jackson, and even he looked embarrassed with that atrocity.  Jackson says nothing during the cab ride back to his apartment.  Stiles sees Lydia totally question her life choices.

Boyd fireman carries him to his apartment, and Stiles gladly plays hot potato with his honed ass cheeks, until he is set down in front of his door, Boyd's face as stoic as ever.

Lydia pounds on his door, until Derek his roomie for life opens it.

"Derek! Baby! Love of my life."  Derek looks pained as he takes Stiles from Lydia's arms.  Who's he kidding?  Derek always looks pained, it's his resting bitch face.  Except the guy version.  What was the guy version?  "Jerk face!  Love you no matter what you look like."

"What did you give him to drink?"  Derek's face caterpillars pull down.

"Tequilla!"  Stiles sing-says.  "And coffee! Yay!"

"You're his boyfriend, you should have come along, kept an eye on him."  Lydia says defensively, crossing her arms.

"We're not dating."

"But you are fucking."

"That's none of your business."

"You're taking advantage of his trustin-"

"It's his choice, not yours!  Now fuck off!"  Derek slams their apartment door in pretty Lydia's face.

"Hey Derek, Derek, wanna play snap with me?"

"Come on, you idiot."  Derek grabs his wrist and drags him to Stiles' bedroom.

"Hey, good plan, I keep the whiskey in the closet."

Derek undresses him to his boxers, dumps him on the bed, and tucks a pillow to his back, making sure he's on his side.  He walks over to the closet, rummages around for a bit, and pulls out the bottle of Jack, taking it with him as he walks out of the room. 

But Stiles doesn't want to sleep, he wants to party with Derek.

Derek comes back a few minutes later, to Stiles' enjoyment, with a jug of water, a glass tumbler, Advil, and a huge bucket, but no whiskey, to Stiles' displeasure.

Derek sets everything up and opens the window, while Stiles twitches around, trying to find a comfortable position.  Derek, for some reason keeps moving him back to his side, even though Stiles sleeps on his front.  Eventually Derek gives up, and climbs into bed with him, spooning Stiles from behind

Stiles wakes up a few hours later, tossing a colourful mix of dinner, among other things into the bucket, Derek moves his hand soothingly up and down his back, before Stiles falls back to sleep, tucked away.

He rises to an empty bed the next morning with a throbbing headache.  There's a can of coconut water on his bedside table, and the distinct smell of frying eggs coming from his closed door.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, he pads over to the kitchen.  "Hey, bro."  He calls over to Derek, "Sorry about last night."

"It's fine."  Derek places a plate of eggs and wasa crackers in front of him.  "Just make sure it doesn't happen again, or you'll be sleeping out in the hallway all night.  I don't care if strawberry blonde pounds on the door all night with her brass knuckles.  Not again."

Stiles raises his palm, "Scout's honour," before digging in.

At least the only class he has on Monday is in the evening.  Oh shit.  It's Psych.  He is not prepared to see Daehler today after his confessions in sex club.

So of course when he gets to class, Daehler comes up to him, slaps him on the back, and says quite loudly, "Stilinski, love that you're so open and honest, sex is an addiction."

Rules one through two of sex club, DO NOT talk about sex club.

"Hey Matt."

"Yeah?"

"Piss off."

It's not his fault Daehler spends the rest of the class sitting directly behind him, glaring daggers into his skull.  Dick can't keep his bloody mouth shut.

He comes home to find Scott on his couch, Xbox controller already in hand.  Stiles' body is ready. 

He kicks Scott's ass.

But Lydia must have bribed him with something because he brings up Stiles' sex life during after game snacks.  Calling Derek a bad influence or something along the same lines.

"I'm just saying, Allison's aunt dumped him for a reason."  Scott says around a mouthful of popcorn, looking everywhere, but at Stiles.  "Kate says he hurt her."

"Wait.  You think I'm being abused?"  If anything Stiles is more likely the abuser.  Even he knows he talks too much.

"Well, yeah.  Hale always looks like he wants to rip your head off.

"Scott, Kate broke up with Derek because he was, what she called, 'cold.'  That's just how his face works."  Stiles scoffs.  "She's also a pathological liar.  Said she used to model for Victoria's Secret but I couldn't find anything on the internet, not even a portfolio.

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_."  Stiles sighed, rubbing his face.  "I'm not dating him, Scott."

"It sure looks like you are.  You guys play footsie under the table when I come over for dinner for fucks sake."

"Dude, he's my best friend.  And we don't play footsie, we play lets-see-how-many-bruises-we-can-kick-into-the-other's-leg-chicken."

Scott pouted, his inner puppy dog showing.  "I thought I was your best friend."

"Don't give me that shit, after months ignoring me when you got together with Allison, you lost your bff status.  Now you're just my brother from another mother."

Scott puppy piles him for that.

The next day finds Lydia sitting beside a  pretty man on his couch.  She makes weak excuses and leaves them with a simple "Have fun."

"Hi, I'm Liam, you must be Stiles.  Lydia's told me lots about you."

His foot is on his center table.  His socked _foot_ is on Stiles' table.  Stiles stares at his foot blankly, asking,  "Do you believe in the power of narwhals?"

Only two minutes later Liam slowly backs out of the door, stammering the same weak excuses as Lydia did before him.

Stiles calls Lydia up the moment after Liam escapes.  "You pull that shit again and I'll take that new Vera Wang dress of yours and run it over with my Jeep.  Repeatedly.  I don't like strangers in my apartment."  He hangs up before she gets a word in.

His phone rings only a minute later.  Stiles is ready to ignore it, until he sees it's not Lydia, but Derek.  He picks up.  "Hey, what's up dude?"

"I'll be late tonight Stiles.  I have a date.  Don't make extra food."

"Yeah, okay man, just don't bring her back here."  Stiles _hates_ strangers in his apartment.

Derek sighs, and Stiles can almost hear his eyes roll.  "I know Stiles, I won't."

See, that's why Stiles likes Derek, he doesn't question Stiles' many levels of crazy.  Unlike some of his friends.

Derek strides into the apartment the next morning with hickeys on his throat, and a frown on his face.  "I see it went well."  Stiles comments while digging in the fridge for the orange juice.

Derek glances at him out of the corner of one eye.  "Yeah."

And shit.  There goes Stiles' orgasms.  Every time Derek dates a girl, he's insanely faithful to her, it's an admirable trait, but it sucks for Stiles because it means Derek won't fuck him while he's dating her.

"Want some toast and oj?"

"Yes to the juice, no to the toast, already had breakfast at Braeden's."

Oh, wow, he must really like her.  Breakfast means he never snuck out in the morning.  Stiles pours him a glass and gets ready for his Germanic languages lecture with Lydia, saying goodbye to a snoring Derek starfished out on his bed.  Braeden must've kept him up all night.

And now Stiles is jealous.  He prides himself on being amazing at the sex, and now this Braeden is crouching in on _his_ territory.  Dammit.  He wonders if she also can do that thing with her tongue and Derek's ass that just makes his cock _leak_.

Lydia finds him in the lecture hall with his arms crosses, muttering curses under his breath.  

After he explains the situation to her, she tries to give him advice.  "If you like him so much why don't you just date him?"

"I don't want to go out to the movies and hold pinkies with him."

"There are different definitions to the word 'date', Stiles."

"Yes, but all of them require some form of an emotional connection.  People in relationships share things with each other, and I just can't do that with someone.  There's just way too many expectations in a relationship."

Lydia sighs at him, exasperated.

Weeks later Stiles finds himself in the bathroom, rubbing off a quick one in front of the vanity, when the door opens to Derek, hands fumbling with his fly, he looks up, staring in shock.  Stiles' one hand braced firm on the counter, the other tight around his hard on, frozen.  "Shit, should've locked the door."

"I miss your dick."  Derek blurts out.

"Whaaat?"

"I miss having sex with you."  Derek admits, fly undone.

"What about Braeden?"  Stiles asks, his dick officially flaccid now, as he pulls his undies back up and tucks himself back in, before washing his hands.

Derek runs his hand through his hair.  "I don't know Stiles, I don't know.  I like her, but I like you too."

Stiles turns off the tap, and wipes his hands on his towel.  "I'm never going to date you, so it's best you decide what you like better.  Fucking or holding hands."

"Sheesh.  We don't only hold hands."  He frowns fondly at Stiles.  "Now get out, I need to piss."

Stiles sticks his tongue out.  "Cockblock.  Me and the sink were looking forward to getting reacquainted."

"Shut up Stiles."

Stiles meets Braeden the day she sits beside him in Psych. 

He's pretty sure the gorgeous chocolate skinned woman dropping down next to him not enrolled in the class, something Daehler is all too pleased to point out.

"The fuck, Braeden, you can't just sit in on lectures whenever you like.  You're taking learning opportunities away from students actually paying for the class."

"Piss off Daehler."  The woman snorts, turning to Stiles, offering a hand in greeting.  "Hi.  I'm Braeden."

"Stiles."  He returns her handshake.  "Derek's told me a lot about you."  Derek's told Stiles jack squat about her.  Jack fucking squat.

"No he hasn't."  She laughs and Stiles shrugs.  "Okay, let me cut to the chase, cupcake.  Derek talks a lot about you.  A lot."

"He is my roommate, we've roomed together for two years.  That make sense."  Oh shit, Stiles hopes he doesn't fuck up Derek's relationship with another girl.  His roomie already has a hard enough time finding good relationships.  Derek can't afford to lose a good one because of Stiles.

"He says you do this amazing thing with your tongue and his ass."  She says, smug.

Stiles may or may not let his mouth gape open a bit.

"Stilinski, never knew you were so kinky!" 

Stiles turns around.  "Matt, Piss off."  He says glaring the eavesdropper into submission, before turning back to Braeden who looks, amused?  Weird.  "I swear I haven't slept with Derek since you two got together." 

"Really?  Well that's too bad.  Derek misses your dick."

"Huh."

"Think about it this way, cupcake.  I like Derek, Derek likes me, but Derek also likes you, and we both,"  she gestures between them,  "can tolerate each other."  She smirks at him.  "Let's not live out a piss poor love triangle, yeah?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That means I want you to bone Derek, while I happily continue to date him."

"Huh."

"Clear?"  Braeden asks, no nonsense.

"Crystal."

"Good man."  She pats his shoulder.  "Go get yourself tested at the clinic, and give Derek the paperwork, and he'll give you mine and his.  And hopefully we never have to see each other again.  Ta ta."

Well then.  Welcome back, Stiles' orgasms.

**Author's Note:**

> Just had to put a HTGAWM reference in there, kudos if you got it.
> 
> Review if you enjoyed!


End file.
